


Shotgun

by catboyeren



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catboyeren/pseuds/catboyeren
Summary: Sexually tense roommates Jean Kirstein and Eren Jaeger are out of weed.Now with italics - 10/26/20
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 13
Kudos: 190





	Shotgun

Eren wondered what he'd done, to which power, to wind up with Jean for a roommate. He was lying on his bed in the dark, gazing across his pillow at the door, contemplating it. The horse-faced boy, a year older, hadn't seemed so bad on their first night-- it was a relief to find someone equally ambitious, and someone who didn't mind that Eren smoked. But their similarities stopped there. Eren noticed, with no small amount of anger, that while Jean kept his room clean he was never as considerate with the common space. If he had a blunt for every time he'd had to scrape congealed food remains into the trash so he could use a pan, he'd be set for the rest of his time at university. And it was impossible to bring up any of his studies. If he so much as mentioned Kafka, he'd earn a derisive snort from Jean, and invariably wind up in an argument about how worthwhile a Lit degree was. 

Jean, on the other hand, was in the engineering program. Of course. 

At least he didn't bring anyone home, right? With how thin the walls in their two-bedroom apartment were, Eren thought he might have to bear having to hear Jean Kirstein having sex. The mere thought made him indescribably uncomfortable. Therein lay merciful evidence of their mutual ambition: school always came before a social life. Neither of them had been with anyone in the time they'd lived together, and that was nice, sure. But Eren hated him and his voice and his stupid auburn hair and the fact he used post-its to take notes instead of writing in a notebook and the way he never put his dishes in the sink and the fact that he would vape but only at parties and-- 

It was easier to think about this particular irritation than the exam he knew he couldn't stand to study for again. And it was always here, in the dark, before he went to sleep, that he thought about Jean. After all, the walls were thin, and neither of them were sexually active. It would be hard not to think about him.

Sometimes Eren heard bumps-- the bedframe tapping against the wall rhythmically. Like steps. Or like the click of a watch close to an ear. Ignorable. Innocent, but… 

In the warmer months, when their windows were both open, he'd heard soft, low grunts, even gasps, like the older boy was somehow surprising himself with whatever carnal ministrations he'd begun. Eren never knew how to react. He'd freeze and just listen. Even though Jean got on his nerves like too much caffeine, there was an undeniable physical reaction to the sound of it. That's what he told himself. He couldn't help but respond, it was practically instinct. Those noises meant move, they meant hot, they meant more. Eren's hand would dart down to his length and he'd shut his eyes, stroking to the rhythm of the bed banging against the wall, the louder, rougher moans. He'd strangle his own cries of pleasure in his sheets, fisting them up against his mouth. 

It had since become something more. Eren wasn't sure, but he had a suspicion that Jean knew about their synchronous jack-off sessions. Once or twice, he'd slipped up and let out a moan of his own-- or thumped against the wall, losing control-- and heard Jean's steady pace falter, then pick up again, harder than before. And their arguments, though numerous as always, typically took place after they'd both gotten home from class. In the mornings, they were almost friends: sleepily trudging through the kitchen for coffee, into the living room to reluctantly pick up an abandoned textbook, a schoolbag, sitting in silence at the table and gazing at their phones apathetically. A rough, unhappy, "Mornin'," from Jean. Like it took hours to forget the intimacy of… whatever it was. 

There was no sound tonight. Exams had seemingly taken it out of Jean-- the last few nights had been so quiet. Eren's cock stirred shyly, accustomed to attention around this time, in this bed-- but he barely felt energetic enough to get off his stomach, let alone take himself in hand. The arousal persisted. 

The brunet dragged his pillow down, under his body, to his hips, slotting his length between the cushion and the mattress. The weight of his body on it felt so, impossibly good-- a soft whimper escaped his lips. He dragged the sheets over his head-- this was going to be a loud one-- and bucked his hips forward. 

"Fuck," he gasped. A moment later, in a barely-audible whine, he added, " _Jean_!" 

\-----------------

"Another boring World War II novel? And you said your professor loves it? Jesus, I'd go fucking insane," Jean called into the kitchen. He was sat with his arms behind his head, legs up on the table-- fresh from the snow outside. His cheeks were pink and he still hadn't taken off his sweater, but his jeans were tighter than a seal. Eren's nostrils flared above the steaming cup of tea he was preparing. "It's actually really subversive for the time period. The only thing comparable is, like, Slaughterhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut where instead of focusing on the glory and camaraderie of the military--" 

"Okay, okay, okay!" Jean held up his hands to stop Eren, then put his head down. "Christ, Jaeger, exams are over. Save it for next semester, will you?" 

Eren dropped a sugar cube vindictively into his mug. "I like what I'm studying." 

"I do too, but after a week of looking at it, I'm ready to forget biomechanics even exists. Hey, you got any weed?" 

Jean's eyes were poised above his grinder, one half-shut, like the lack of herb was an error in his depth perception. 

Thank God, Eren thought. They always got along better when they were stoned. "Yeah, hang on a minute." 

He dashed into his room, averting his eyes from the bed, where his sweat-stained pillow was waiting-- he was looking forward to a long, hot shower tonight, and then an equally long, hot masturbation session before he, blissfully, slept in. _Stay focused, Eren,_ he told himself, and picked up his grinder from his desk. Upon inspection, though, he only had a bowl or two's worth in there. Ordinarily, he would've hit up his old T.A., Levi, to ask him for weed but it was fucking finals. No one had time to go to the dispensary, let alone a grad student. Shit. 

"I don't have much," he said concernedly, stepping back into their cluttered living room. 

"Me neither." Jean dumped what was left of his weed into Eren's grinder. It was nice having someone to share with, though just now, it was a little irritating. They both glanced at one another, knowing fully well that if it was only one of them, this would be more than enough to help them forget the heavy texts they'd been struggling to digest all week. Eren's green eyes flicked away from Jean's dark ones to his mouth, then back to the weed. 

"What if…" Eren pulled his cheek in, over his tongue, then shook his head quickly. "No, never mind." 

"What?" 

He picked up a granule of kush and rolled it to powder between his thumb and forefinger. "I was just going to say maybe we should share the smoke." 

Jean's brow furrowed. "What?" he said again, before a look of clarity spread over his face. "Like, shotgun it to each other?" 

"Yeah, like I blow the smoke from my hit into your mouth." 

"Isn't that kind of…" Jean looked anywhere but Eren's eye, tapping his knees.

"It doesn't have to be!" Eren said, a little too quickly. He slumped down on the couch, making sure to keep from touching Jean. "I mean, I don't… like, it's not…" 

"Yeah, like we're not…" 

"Yeah." 

There was a moment of silence between them: Eren sat with his legs straightened out, his shin bracing against the beaten coffee table. Jean's were bent and propped up, the cuffed legs of his jeans intentionally ridden up to show off his Adidas socks. 

"I'm game," he said softly, watching his knees. Eren perked up: "Yeah?" 

"I mean," he went on, reaching for their communal pipe, "it's so we can conserve the weed. It's in the spirit of our, like, smoking bond." 

Eren snorted. "Eloquent." 

Jean packed the bowl with a pointedly indiscreet roll of his eyes. "I'd ask how you'd put it but I really don't want to know." He lit up, and then, after his drag, like he remembered what the plan was, lurched towards Eren, who had also momentarily forgot what they were doing, and opened his mouth suddenly. He saw Jean's eyes shut and followed suit. It was strangely… intimate, with their eyes closed. It reminded Eren of the dark of his room… of the thought of… Their lips brushed together briefly, sending a shot of electricity down Eren's spine. He arched his back without meaning to and inhaled. Smoke pulled into his lungs and he blew it out through his nose. 

A faint fog filled their living room. 

"So, that worked, right?" If Eren didn't know better he'd say Jean was blushing. It was probably just the lack of air-- they were both a little breathless. 

The first wave of high lapped at the shore of Eren's mind. "Yeah, I'd say so. Let me try," the brunet took the pipe from Jean and flicked his clipper until a short burst of flame emerged from the top. He held the two together, pursed his lips, and pulled in: he felt the smoke hit his throat and ease slowly downwards, drawing in a second breath to make sure it filled his lungs. 

As if he was about to kiss his roommate-- which he was not-- Eren leaned forward and blew the smoke between Jean's parted lips. The older (not by much) roommate inhaled, once again letting his eyes shut. He just didn't want to see Eren's face up close, that was it. But… Eren closed his eyes too. 

They went back and forth like that for a while, in an odd silence. Eventually, Eren couldn't remember when, Jean flipped on King of the Hill and turned the volume way down. White noise. The cartoonish voices made a garish music under the soft inhale-exhale of their mouths; they reflexively lidded their reddening eyes and watched the television. Now and again, the pipe would change hands. One of them would draw, and they would come close and share the hit. And each time, their legs got closer on the couch. Their hands brushed together. It wasn't long before Eren and Jean were practically shoulder-to-shoulder, stoned as hell and snuggled up. 

"I'm kind of tired," Eren murmured. 

"Yeah, tell me about it. This week's…" Jean trailed off. 

Though neither of them knew, both were thinking about their pre-sleep rituals: thinking about the bump of the bedframe on the wall, thinking about the breathlessness, and the heat, and the closeness to themselves. Thinking about each other, and the fact that they both did this thing at the same time most nights. Wondering those things that can't be answered so easily. What does he look like? Sound like? How big is he? Would he splay his legs apart for me? Would he pin me by the hips? 

And maybe it was the weed, or the fact that their mouths had been getting awfully familiar tonight, but both of them were suddenly distracted by a feather-light heat spreading between their thighs. 

"I'm gonna go to bed." Eren stood up suddenly and looked at Jean. As if waiting for permission. Jean looked at him, brow creasing. He was realizing something. He was thinking.

He stood up and smiled at the shorter boy, clicking the television off. "Gotta go call my name some more?" 

"What?" Eren froze. 

"I asked if you were gonna go whine my name some more, like you did last night." 

Eren blushed head to toe. "I don't know what you're... " Jean fixed him with a look that said 'oh, come on', without him even having to vocalize it in his infuriating, annoying voice. Eren was nonetheless annoyed and infuriated. "Oh, so you're just fucking listening in on me, huh?" 

Jean grinned wryly. "You started it." 

"What are you talking about?! I didn't--" 

"Boy, you're really fucking shy, huh? It's just jacking off." Jean was close to him now. Less than a foot. Was he upset? What kind of an argument was this? Why the hell was Jean being so casual when they were talking about… Eren stammered, which only made him feel more aggravated-- with himself and Jean. 

"I d- I couldn't- God, I'm-" 

"Spit it out," Jean leered. 

Eren huffed. "I didn't know you could hear me, okay? Just forget about it." 

"You knew." 

"No, I didn't!" 

Jean gave Eren a look somewhere between encouraging and amused. The smaller boy pressed his lips into a thin line. "Okay. Fine. Yeah. I… knew. But-- hang on, you did too!" Eren pushed on the center of Jean's chest accusatorily, but all he did was keep smiling that fucking smile. 

"Show me." 

"What?" 

"Come on. I've always wondered." 

Eren's blush turned hot red and dropped right between his hips. "W… you wanna watch me…" Stammering again. God, if this was an ordinary fight, he'd never recover. It was all he could do to pull a straight face, but he could be as normal as Jean was being about this, couldn't he? He'd show him. Eren drew himself up and forced a smirk onto his face. "Yeah, alright." He turned on his heel and marched down the hall. After a beat, Jean followed. 

He sat on his bed and removed his shirt shamelessly, letting the other eye his body. He undid his buttons. His zipper. Jean shuffled his feet and glanced around Eren's room awkwardly; he wasn't that confident after all, was he? Eren grinned and shucked off his jeans. "You gonna stay over there the whole time?" 

Jean shook his head suddenly, looking alarmed. "No, course not, uh…" he walked over to Eren's bedside, "what do you want me to... " They hadn't turned the light on, their faces were ringed in shadow. It made it feel safer. Eren's supine body looked blue in the dark, and Jean's eyes dragged down his chest and stomach until they were resting on the waistband of his boxers. The outline of his stiff cock. Eren watched him. "Tell me what you were curious about," he suggested in a whisper, his fingers trailing down to the silhouette of his length, 

and then his hand was there, and both of them sucked in a sharp breath. His palm slid down his shaft and grasped, sending a shock of pleasure up his body. He groaned and rocked his hips up. Jean was wordless for a few moments longer, just looking, before he started to speak in a voice that barely sounded like his. 

"I just… I wondered what your face might look like when you… I was curious how intentional it was, like, if you… thought about me." 

Take it slow. Eren whined with the effort to restrain himself. 

"Jesus," Jean breathed, "you're…" his hand went to Eren's leg, eliciting a startled, high-pitched moan. " _Sensitive_ ," he climbed onto the twin mattress, his feet dangling, his knees on either side of Eren's thigh while his hand worked roughly against his cock. He removed his shirt quick as he could, but didn't go for his jeans. Eren reached for his waistband-- why not?-- and Jean pushed his wrist down, against the bed. "Is this always how you do it?" He snagged the boy's other wrist and pulled it off his cock, pinning him down nicely and coaxing yet another loud, needy sound from Eren's lips. 

"No, sometimes I... " Eren squirmed, "I lie on my stomach and use… pillow," he mumbled, looking down at his newly unattended arousal. Jean's expression was hungry. "You mean you hump it? Like a dog?" He dragged his knee up, letting it rest teasingly out of reach beneath the other's balls. 

"Y-yeah," Eren panted, trying to move closer to him but unable to under the boy's strong arms. 

"Fu-uck. Dirty little slut." 

"Jean…" 

"Say that again." 

" _Jean_." 

Something in the quiver of Eren's voice set Jean off. He fucking needed it. Wanted to give it. Not even taking the time to take off his pants, Jean released Eren to pull his length out of his boxers and shoved his waistband just under his ass. He did the same for Eren, and then, like they'd agreed on this from the start, pressed their members together and wrapped his long fingers around them both. Eren shuddered and wailed telling him, "Jean, Jean, Jean! Jean," over and over. The auburn-haired boy braced himself up on his hands and thighs and began to stroke, steady and hard, letting his thumb brush over the top of Eren's cock. With their shafts pressed together stimulation would be constant even without Jean's hand moving. The brunet almost sobbed, bucking his hips up uselessly. 

"Desperate fucking… cock… slut…" Jean growled and quickened his pace, burying his head in the crook of Eren's neck. He licked a long stripe across his collarbone and sucked on the skin beneath his ear, lavving, nipping. "Fuck, tastes... good," his warm breath in Eren's ear, his heavy weight keeping them pressed together, his hand carefully urging them both up and down, 

the edge was there, the edge of pleasure, and Eren let out a throaty, desperate gasp, and Jean-- stopped. The pleasure cut out, replaced by sheer frustration. Eren moaned in agony and bucked his hips. "N-no, fuck, please, please, please," he begged. 

"Say it." 

"Jean, oh my god. Jean. Jean, please," Eren babbled desperately, until Jean once again resumed the slow, steady pace he'd started with. How long was he planning to keep them like this? Surely he was close too. Eren tried to look at his face to tell, and found he couldn't twist in that direction without Jean attacking his neck and collarbone again. But there was the telltale sound of his low, needing grunts and gasps in Eren's ear-- sounds he'd heard before from Jean's room. God, he couldn't believe this was happening to him, this insane pleasure… he was writhing, moving in a way he'd never moved before. Jean tightened his fist. 

"Fuck," Eren choked. He felt his body spasm. He lost control and cried out loudly, his face splitting into an expression of sheer ecstasy. Jean didn't take long after that, and Eren felt ribbons of cum shoot across his stomach and pool on his bare ribcage, his face still buried in his neck. His hand went still, cupping them both tenderly, and his body relaxed. Jean's soft breath fluttered across Eren's limp shoulders, warm and quick. 

They didn't say anything for a few long minutes. They were just the two of them, breathing in and out, feeling the hot, sticky residue half-gluing their stomachs together. Eren felt impossibly nice, like he was melting. 

"So," Jean muttered, "wanna go smoke a bowl?" 

"Yeah, sure."

**Author's Note:**

> come on we've all seen the tumblr post


End file.
